Elizabeth Sackett earned a degree in English with a writing concentration from SUNY Geneseo, where she received the Lucy Harmon Award for Fiction Writing and was published in Gandy Dancer. She has also been published in Gravity Of The Thing, Fickle Muses, Neon Literary Magazine and Subprimal Poetry Art, and enjoys writing about women, folklore, […]Read more "Partial Endothermy"
January Month of poems. Bark, rain-stripped and grey. Tears of amber sap, of cold, frost and snow days when even the birds go inside. Winter hedges us along, the red berries bright against the rust-brown, moss-covered, lichen-mottled shades of January. We must be careful what we think about these days. We’re at the age now […]Read more "January"
Susan Cronin studied at Rutgers University, Sarah Lawrence College, and The New School, where she earned an MFA. Her poetry has appeared in a numerous journals including Nashville Review, DMQ Review, White Stag, Gingerbread House, Josephine Quarterly, indicia, Figroot Press, and the inaugural issues of Varnish, and The Cerurove. The Foundling A tangle of silver […]Read more "The Foundling"
Gerard Sarnat’s recently been nominated for a Pushcart Prize. He’s authored four collections: HOMELESS CHRONICLES (2010), Disputes (2012), 17s (2014) and Melting The Ice King (2016) which included work published in Gargoyle, Lowestoft, American Journal of Poetry, Main Street Rag, New Delta Review, Tishman Review plus was featured in New Verse News, Songs of Eretz, […]Read more "How colorblind is too colorblind?"
Lee Jaszlics is a technical writer and photographer living in Portland, Oregon. They share their life with a cat, two pet spiders and a dissecting microscope. Their work has never before been published. Out For the Season Winter left you breathless; fine frozen talc wrote a foreign alphabet across organs with classical names, and branching […]Read more "Out For the Season"
A spring morning much like others, some daffodils rain-beaten, some perked. Daphne’s lemony fragrance when near enough. The outdoor little library bookcase at the neighbor’s frames the same mythologies, travel guides, and who-dun-its that got us through winter’s downpours. At the abandoned school, morning changes. A man rakes the baseball diamond, listening on earphones that […]Read more "Kindling"
Franziska Hofhansel is an aspiring screenplay and fiction writer from Providence, Rhode Island. Still Here She wore a tattered blue dress displaying what was left of her curves and he, a faded flannel, unfashionably ripped jeans and a hazy smile. She held him a second too long and asked him where he’d gotten his cologne. […]Read more "Still Here"
Reckoning Men finger pockets, lick lips, squint into the bright light of too much possibility. Women narrow eyes like foxes guarding layers. The world has become Winter. They read about growing tomatoes, generators; watching the headlines and the skylines, skittish, waiting. Storms in the sun, holes in the sky. Your father holds his bible, looking […]Read more "Reckoning"
Frost pastes a mosaic of downed old leaves rimmed in rime. Like teacup dregs and tarot cards splayed on sugared tables, readings of left behinds, these patchworks pinch in icy grout. Leafy feathers fly, wings wish, ash fires and golden glooms to muted stars and folded moons, fans of ginko grace, sweet-gummed prickles, silver bristles […]Read more "Winter Mosaic"
By mid-February we have forgotten the taste of strawberries. We make love with bombs falling in deserts we’ll never see. This room is silent, save for the sound of our own breath. Perhaps we feel as though twilight is falling too quickly. We close our eyes and breathe into each others mouths.Read more "Winter Fruit"